


that which we call a rose

by dramaturgicallycorrect



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Theatre, M/M, juilliard au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaturgicallycorrect/pseuds/dramaturgicallycorrect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Zayn pops his head around the door suddenly, the sounds of Louis stomping down the stairwell echoing out behind him.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Wait,” he says, even though Niall isn’t going anywhere. “What’s your name?” </i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Ah. I’m Niall.” He grins. “Although... what’s in a name?”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“That which we call a rose,” Zayn says, trailing off with a small grin before the rest of him disappears behind the closing door.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>[Or, they're at Juilliard and Niall plays the guitar and Zayn has a beautiful falsetto and Liam, Harry, and Louis need some help putting on Romeo and Juliet.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	that which we call a rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gigstagram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigstagram/gifts).



> The request was a Juilliard AU - this is probably a bit fluffier than you were asking for, but I hope you like it! :D

Niall somehow managed to convince the head of the Music Department to find him a Puerto Rican cuatro, figuring more strings means more of a challenge.  He’s having a hell of a time tuning the ten strings, the B octaves giving him the run around. He likes the challenge, relishes it even, because it means he doesn’t have to focus on anything else. He can let his mind go blank, he can find peace. All that’s left is the music.

Naturally, that’s when Liam comes storming into the room.

“I will literally murder him before year’s end!” Liam shouts, tossing his bag onto his bed.

“I doubt it,” Niall says, not bothering to look up from his tuner.

He plays constantly, his fingers always plucking at the strings like it's second nature because that's what Niall wants it to become. Second nature. He can play so well he doesn't even need to concentrate, the music just flows out of him as easy as breathing.

A lot of people don't get the constant playing, think Niall's rude. But most people don't seem to understand that talking to them doesn't take up much effort on Niall's part -- hardly a strain of his brainpower.

Niall thought coming to a place like Juilliard would be safe. A haven full of people who understand what it means to have music in every second of your life. Niall thought wrong. He's on his third roommate this year. Liam doesn't seem to mind the playing, though, because he's always singing. They make a good pair.

Niall’s about to ask, “What’s Louis done now?” but that’s another thing Liam’s good for. He just gives and gives everything he’s got so Niall can just sit by and let it all happen while he learns how to play the cuatro.

“He’s run off our leading lady, is all,” Liam says, his voice climbing an octave with sarcasm. Niall glances up briefly to see a vein popping in his forehead. “Not a big deal. We can probably do bloody Romeo and Juliet _without Juliet_.”

Niall nods. It’s fair enough. A four person musical adaptation of Romeo and Juliet is hard enough without the added No Juliet handicap. Niall can’t exactly say he’s surprised Louis’ run someone off though, especially if he was done with them. He doesn’t do anything by halves. Neither does Liam, though, which is part of what makes them such a good pair. And, also, he guesses, such a difficult one. When they click, they _click,_ and magic happens. But on the days they hate each other, it consumes every inch of them.

“You could wait until next year, do it with the December showcase,” Niall suggests, even though he knows Liam won’t hear of it.

“This is it, Niall,” Liam argues, on cue. “If we want to produce our own show -- do you know how many students crossover from the acting program to the playwriting program? Particularly after their first year?”

“I do not.”

“Not many, Niall!” His voice nearly cracks with a level of hysteria.

“We’ll have to find you a new Juliet,” Niall says.

Liam breathes slowly. He’s resigned to his fate rather quickly. “In a week.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Niall says. Liam nods, jerky and disbelieving, but at least it’s a nod. “Look, worst than can happen? You hideously embarrass yourself and never show your face at this school ever again.”

Liam doesn’t find that very funny, his face says as much. “I need a mezzo-soprano who attacks a melisma better than Beyonce, have you just got one of them lying around?”

“We’re at Juilliard, Liam,” Niall deadpans. “Surely we can find at least three.”

\--

They don’t find a single one, not one who can act at least, and tensions are running higher than ever. Which is why Niall plants himself outside the rehearsal hall instead of inside. He settles on the floor against the wall and pulls the cuatro from the case. They’re still shouting by the time he’s done checking each of his strings.

“Nobody knows what jocund means!”

“ _It’s Shakespeare, for fuck’s sake, Liam_ ,” Louis screeches back.

Niall chuckles quietly, pulling out the sheet music for his secret favorite of their songs, a mushy but beautiful thing called _The Balcony_.

“All right, then, what’s it mean?”

“It means. It’s like when.” Louis sputters. He’s so full of shit.

“Jocund actually means -- ” comes a lower, rumbling voice.

“Shut up, Harry,” they snap together. It’s nice to know they at least agree on one thing. Harry takes it in stride, always does. Because that’s just Harry. He’s the kind of person who would, without a trace of irony, tell people his New Year’s Resolution is “to be more authentic.” People hate people like Harry, but nobody could ever actually hate Harry.

He starts to pluck his way through the song, humming Romeo’s part quietly, hearing Liam’s voice in his head croon about the sun. He nearly stops in the middle of the song when Juliet comes in at the sound of a voice around the corner, gently singing out her lyrics. His fingers keep plucking, just to keep the voice singing for as long as he can -- because The Note is coming up, the highest one in the show, and he’s dead curious to know if they can hit it.

Their voice is intoxicating, smoky yet smooth. Even though they’re quiet, Niall bets they’ve got a hell of a chest voice. He could get lost in that voice, nearly does, missing his first few words in the next chorus. They come up on the part Niall loves the best, where their two biggest verses lap over each other until Juliet riffs on _What’s in a name_ , repeating over and over, building in complexity over Romeo repeating _Call me but love_. The stranger hits the note -- beautiful and clear -- and Niall closes his eyes to let it wash over him.

They come to a sudden halt, the music cutting off in that idiotic moment when Romeo steps out of the shadows and shouts something ridiculous up at Juliet that scares the shit out of her. It’s one of the few laughs in the show.

Niall’s on his feet before long, the cuatro cradled in his hands, rounding the corner just in case the mystery Juliet runs off, fearing they’ve been caught. It’s a bloke, which he was sort of expecting from the tone. He’s stunning, the sharpness of his eyes and cheekbones at odds with the softness of his hair, his hoodie and trackies. Niall recognizes him from Ear Training, a voice major, of course, curses himself that he didn’t recognize the voice sooner.

He doesn’t know the bloke’s name, only really know what he’s seen of him in class. He mostly keeps to himself, listens intently, but doesn’t engage. When Niall looks at him, he sees a big question mark. He’s gotta fix that.

He looks a little surprised at Niall, like he wasn’t expecting anyone to come hold him accountable for laying out a strong falsetto in a hallway outside a rehearsal hall at one o’clock in the morning.

“Who the fuck are you,” Niall says. “And where the hell have you been.”

“M’Zayn?” he says, like he’s checking with Niall that that’s okay. “And I’ve just been to the caf.”

“Sick, what’s your vocal range?”

Zayn eyes him. “Why?”

“You already know all the words,” Niall answers. Then he pauses. “Why do you know all the words?”

Zayn lifts his chin, in something like pride or defense. “I’m Louis’ mate, he runs all his lyrics by me. Why do you know all the music?”

“Liam’s been trying to get me to be their accompanist for months.”

Niall sinks slowly down the wall Zayn’s leaned up against so he can fit himself right next to him. Zayn seems a little startled at first, but that’s nothing Niall isn’t used to. He doesn’t see the need to play coy, when he could just do what he wants the first time around and get immediate results.

“All right, mate,” Zayn says, sounding a little bemused.

“What I’m trying to say, Zayn, is you should play Juliet.”

“Oh, okay,” Zayn says, nodding like he’s playing along with the joke. Because he hasn’t realized Niall isn’t joking. “Sure, I’ll just pop into the rehearsal hall now, take my place on the stage, like.”

“The sooner the better,” Niall agrees. “They’re in a bit of a time crunch.”

Zayn eyes him and Niall can see the moment when he realizes Niall isn’t fucking around. “I can’t do that.”

“Nonsense,” Niall says immediately. “I heard that falsetto.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He doesn’t look uncomfortable yet, so Niall keeps going.

“Never acted before?”

“I played Danny Zuko in school?”

“Perfect. They’re basically the same thing.”

Zayn grins for the first time, a small, soft thing that’s got Niall’s stomach heating up and twisting in a way that should be uncomfortable.

“It is a lot of fun,” Zayn says. “Just the kind of thing you don’t imagine trying to make a career out of it.”

“Oh, but music is that much easier?” Niall teases. “Although, I suppose I’m not too worried about your chances, voice like that.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows and makes a little gesture that Niall thinks might be modesty.

“I could play a girl, I think,” he muses.

“I’m sure they’ve got a pair of tits and a wig lying around here somewhere.”

Zayn hums. “Surely there’s more to it than that, tits and a wig.”

“Yeah?” Niall grins. This is what he wants, to watch Zayn think through it. To get Zayn too invested to say no. He’s not even sure it’ll work, it’s an ambitious plan. But if he pulls it off, he’ll be a hero. “You’d play it different as a boy?”

“Well, yeah, like the themes are different,” he starts. “There’s issues with Juliet basically signed up for an arranged marriage to Paris, right. So when she decides to pick Romeo, she’s got agency. She shows disrespect for the status quo. S’not so exciting when a bloke does that, because we can. Like, nobody’s mad at Romeo for picking Juliet until it means another man can’t have her. Yeah, there’s all that stuff with the warring families too, but then you’ve also got the fact that she’s a young girl. A teenager, and like nobody really takes them seriously, and that’s not fair, is it? We all say girls like that are crazy, emotional. And,” Zayn trails off, leveling a suspicious glance at Niall. “Stuff.”

“Ah, see, I figured you were smart.” Niall doesn’t bother hiding how he must look like the cat that got the cream. He feels like he’s just witnessed something special there, watching Zayn talk about something he was interested in, get passionate, heated. He’s not so closed off after all. Can’t be, in fact, considering he’s friends with Louis and Louis expects you to be able to keep up with him.

“Seriously. Why me?” Zayn asks, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, which is a fair enough question.

Niall’s not sure he can explain it, is the thing. Once he heard his voice, Zayn’s music weaving in with Niall’s, he knew it sounded right. He looks like he’d fit.

“You’re the kind of person people fall in love at first sight over,” Niall explains.

Zayn’s face falls, almost like he’s disappointed by the response, but Niall’s not sure what he could have said wrong. It gets uncomfortably quiet fast, Niall not sure what to say and Zayn not giving him any indication. He’s got to break the tension, so he leans over and pokes at Zayn’s chest, hitting each of his pecs and his stomach before murmuring, “Communication levels at full capacity.”

Zayn looks up at him for a moment, and Niall can see the gears spinning in his head trying to decide whether or not he should play along.

“Beep boop beep,” Zayn says finally. “Communication levels restored.”

“Phew,” Niall answers, pretending to feign relief in order to cover how actually relieved he is. “It was touch and go there, but we made it.”

He goes through all the trouble of restoring balance to his own universe only to have Louis absolutely destroy it in the next second by banging the rehearsal room door open to storm out of it.

“We’re fuckin’ going!” Louis snaps, attempting to slam the rehearsal door behind him, but that little grey thing at the top that slows doors down -- Niall’s never been sure what they’re called -- is severely decreasing the efficiency of his dramatics.

“That’s my cue,” Zayn says, but he doesn’t seem to want to make any moves up off the floor.

“You can’t miss your cue,” Niall answers. “Poor form for an actor.”

Zayn barks a laugh, a startling but beautiful sound, before his face comes to rest in a soft smile, his tongue pressed to the back of his front teeth. He’s stunning and Niall wonders exactly how much he means what he said about what kind of person Zayn is.

“Good evening, excuse me, but I need that one,” Louis says from above them and he’s pointing at Zayn.

Zayn grimaces apologetically. “He needs me.”

He finally picks himself up off the floor, appeasing Louis who stands aside literally tapping his foot with impatience. Niall knows better than to argue against Louis when he’s in one of these moods, would rather suffer without Zayn than suffer Louis’ wrath. It’s all about the lesser of two evils with Louis most days.

Zayn pops his head around the door suddenly, the sounds of Louis stomping down the stairwell echoing out behind him.

“Wait,” he says, even though Niall isn’t going anywhere. “What’s your name?”

“Ah. I’m Niall.” He grins. “Although... what’s in a name?”

“That which we call a rose,” Zayn says, trailing off with a small grin before the rest of him disappears behind the closing door.

\--

Niall doesn’t even wait til they’re back to the room before he broaches the subject with Liam.

“Found you a Juliet.”

Liam’s eyes go comically wide before a grin takes up his face, so big his eyes go comically squinted. He snatches Niall around the waist and pulls him into an awkward walking side hug. “I knew I could count on you. Who is it?”

“Do you know Louis’ mate, Zayn?”

“Yeah, he’s been around,” Liam says dismissively before he takes a few seconds for the question to land. His face goes pinched.  “What, Zayn? He can’t be Juliet, he’s a boy.”

Niall thinks he keeps his face schooled at that comment, but apparently not enough, because Liam’s face is falling.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Niall, honestly,” Liam says, tightening his arm just a little.

Niall shrugs it off. He usually decide it’s not worth the trouble to try to talk to Liam about that kind of thing. “He can hit the notes.”

He still looks unconvinced. “He’s, what, a tenor?”

“Beautiful falsetto.”

“And he’s interested?”

Niall isn’t exactly sure, but he’s comfortable giving Liam, “Probably.”

Liam agrees to audition him eventually, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Niall doesn’t care much, so long as he comes around.

“Why Zayn?” he asks and Niall isn’t entirely sure. Why Zayn indeed.

He tries his best to come up with an answer different to what he’d given Zayn when he asked the same thing. He’s beautiful, is the thing, there’s no denying that. He could stop someone’s heart from across the room just looking at him. He’s got the kind of face you’d do stupid things over. He makes Niall want to fight for his attention, do whatever it takes just to get him to smile at Niall. Like things couldn’t ever be so bad whenever Zayn was smiling his way.

Niall supposes he just wants to see Zayn shine, like he wants Liam and Louis and Harry to shine. He wants people to sit up and take notice of them, the way that he has. Wants people to see their talent, like he has. The four of them together, as good as they are? They could achieve something pretty special.

Liam doesn’t push him for an answer, and that’s the one Niall allows himself to have, saccharine sweet as it is.

\--

Niall pauses his video and yanks a headphone from his ear when he realizes Liam’s said something. “Hm?”

“What’s that?”

“Jazz guitarist. Romero Lubambo.”

“Thought you were doing the cuatro,” Liam says with his eyebrows raised.

“Nah, I’m in jazz now.”

Liam blinks at him. “Yeah, okay.”

He had turned in the cuatro the earlier in the day, trading it out for a jazz guitar. He had been questioned by the head of the department about it, about how he can’t keep his attention on an instrument for more than ten days. He tried to play it off, say something about wanting to be well-rounded.

It’s true enough, he does want to try everything, do everything. He gets pressured to pick a concentration, to find a path, and he just… isn’t sure. He knew since he was a kid he wanted to play the guitar, he wanted to go to Juilliard. And now that he’s here, he’s not sure what to do with it. He’s got no problem going after what he wants. It’s just figuring out what he wants that’s the problem.

Liam throws himself onto Niall’s bed, jostling Niall’s guitar a little more than he’s comfortable with. Niall snatches it up and rests it gently on the floor by his bed. Liam doesn’t seem to notice.

“Talked to your mate Zayn today.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s got an audition tonight. Can’t say I’m not really curious what he’s going to do.”

“He’s gonna smash it,” Niall predicts and makes plans to witness it.

\--

Liam’s staring at his sides like he doesn’t already have the script memorized. Harry’s sitting in the corner on his phone like he’s not also auditioning the lead in his own play. Louis’ fucking around with Zayn like Zayn doesn’t actually need to complete his vocal warmups.

Niall sits in the corner, plucking at his guitar and watching his chosen ecosystem go. Zayn looks up and catches his eye, makes a little beckoning gesture with his head. So Niall trades places with Louis, who lifts an eyebrow at Niall before falling away to go terrorize Liam, more than likely.

Niall reaches out and pokes at Zayn’s chest again, his beep beep boop. “Ready?”

“Don’t know why you’re so determined I do this,” Zayn says.

“You’d be great at it. You need to do this.”

“You’re a stranger,” Zayn says, but leaves off the _so who the hell do you think you are_ at the end of it.

“Do I have to be?” Niall answers.

Zayn looks at him long and thoughtful and decides, “I’d rather you weren’t.”

Louis calls them all to order shortly after that, gives them the rundown of what they’re all expecting from the scene.

It’s a flirty song, _The Nightingale and the Lark_ , where Romeo and Juliet dance around each other, debating whether or not it’s about to be morning and Romeo’ll have to nip off before Juliet’s parents find out he’s there. It’s another of Niall’s favorites (at this point, they’re all sort of his favorites), like the last moment of calm before the storm. Sweet and simple.

“This is a fun moment,” Louis directs. “You can’t play the end, remember you don’t know where they’re headed. We can’t let the play be a tragedy until the tragedy happens. You’re just two blokes having a morning after, sex happy, giddy. Zayn, you probably know what I mean. Liam, just try your best.”

Liam passes him a condescending smile, but for the first time in days, neither of them seem interested at shouting at each other. It would be slightly unnerving if it wasn’t so welcome.

They arrange the rehearsal cubes together until Zayn can crawl over them to lay asleep. Liam doesn’t look very sure as he sets himself down behind Zayn, slowly inching forward until he’s curled up against him. They spend a few moments resting together, settling into the scene. Zayn’s got his eyes closed until Harry whistles their cue.

Zayn’s face scrunches for a moment with displeasure and Niall’s heart lurches at the thought that this is how he wakes up in the morning. He’s sharing with them this little private moment -- even though Niall’s perfectly aware he’s acting -- that Niall would be honored to see over and over again in his bed. That Niall would wake up early just to witness every morning.

Liam stirs faster behind him, sitting up almost comically fast with his eyes still about 75% closed.

“Shit,” he says. “The lark.”

Zayn groans and shakes his head. “S’the nightingale, babe.” He reaches behind him and grabs at Liam’s hand until he goes pliant over Zayn’s body, their hands resting atop the cube.

Niall comes in then, strumming the melody softly as they banter through their will-they-won’t-they over it. Zayn drops his sides on the ground when the song comes in -- Niall already knows he knows the song.

Their lyrics are a lazy mix of Shakespeare and modern vernacular -- they can get away with that kind of thing in song, even though Harry’s books is fully adapted from the Shakespeare. They bicker sweetly, teasing and grabbing at each other, looking out non-existent windows.

Niall glances away from his music to peek around for reactions. Harry’s actually watching the scene, leaned forward a little in his chair, with a very intense look of concentration on his face as he assesses the performance. Louis’ just staring dumbfounded at the scene, his mouth dropped open.

Zayn’s pushing at Liam’s back, pleading with him to go, and Liam grins back at him, soft and fond, before he finally agrees. Liam steps up and over a few of the rehearsal cubes, pretending to drop himself outside Juliet’s window. Zayn jumps up onto the last cube and peers down at him.

 _“More and more light, it grows_ ,” Zayn sings, almost desperately.

 _“More and more light, more and more dark our woes,”_ Liam answers, reaching up to pull Zayn’s neck down slowly to him. For a moment, Niall doesn’t think he’s actually going to do it because he pauses, their panting faces just inches from each other.

“Come on then,” Zayn whispers, off script, and in the next moment, Liam surges up to meet their lips. Both of their eyes flutter shut.

Something funny plays up in Niall’s chest, tugging uncomfortably at him until he almost wants to get up and do something about it. It’s a play, is the thing. It’s just a play. That doesn’t stop him from pulling at the tear in his jeans anxiously until Liam pulls away from the honestly rather chaste kiss.

“Shit,” Liam breathes with wonder. “Gay Romeo and Juliet it is.”

Niall buries his face in his hands for a moment, stifling his groan.

“I’ll fuckin’ say,” Louis calls, surveying the two of them with a bewildered look.

“Harry?” Liam looks over to him.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, his face already buried in his notebook, no doubt rewriting furiously.

Niall agrees, wholeheartedly, it’s better now. The chemistry between the two of them is undeniable, in a way their former Juliet had never been. They make it look light and easy.

He’s not going to hide how smug he feels to be right, that Zayn belongs here, that he completes their little foursome.

\--

Niall starts coming to rehearsal every day, and he doesn’t just sit outside anymore. Every once in a while, Liam can talk him into accompanying them so they don’t have to listen and continually rewind the CD of Liam playing his way through the score on his keyboard.

They adopt Zayn immediately, and he falls into their rhythm as easy as he did in his audition. Louis immediately has no boundaries on stage, just as they don’t have any boundaries in their relationship, seems like. Because Louis spends most of his time following Liam around the stage, he gets to spend more time in Zayn’s scenes helping him with direction and motivation. When it gets down to it, Louis gets pretty serious about his craft. He’s gentle and compassionate in his criticism, open for discussion. It’s different from the screaming matches Niall’s spent months overhearing.

He almost asks Liam about it once, about the shift in Louis’ behavior, wonders if Liam even realizes it. Because he just seems to be living as though this is all business as usual, that it isn’t strange that when they have a lyric discrepancy, they calmly come to an agreeable conclusion instead going for each other’s throats and saying whoever gets tired of shouting first loses. It does take him a few days to stop thinking of it as Gay Romeo and Juliet, and start thinking of it as just Romeo and Juliet. It’s fair though, to keep going about it saying it’s Gay Romeo and Juliet, because Harry’s tailored the book to match it, taking what Zayn had labeled as a girl’s struggle for agency and replaced it with two young boys’ struggle for acceptance of a relationship that’s doubly condemned.

Harry comes alive on stage in a way Niall’s never anticipated from him, throws himself into the role like there’s no tomorrow. He can turn on a dime – loud and brash and hilarious as the Nurse, to cold and angry as Tybalt. He falls in with Zayn easily, the two of them picking up a banter almost immediately. Zayn’s fond exasperation at Harry’s Nurse quickly becomes one of Niall’s favorite bits.

Although, if you asked Niall, almost all of his favorite bits now are Zayn’s.

He loves watching their musical come together, loves watching them move together as a single unit with a single purpose. He’s had more fun in their cramped rehearsal hall than he has in any of his classes. He spends so much time in his classes and lessons alone, but the more he spends with the four of them, the more he thinks this is what he needs. To be part of a group, a family.

When Niall doesn’t see him in Ear Training or rehearsal, he sometimes finds his way to Zayn, or sometimes Zayn finds his way to him.

“I can’t do the dancing, I’m rubbish at it,” Zayn announces one day, leaned against Niall’s door frame when he opens it.

“Nah, it’s not so bad, is it?”

“Not so bad? Show me,” Zayn challenges as he closes the door behind him.

“You want a little bit of this?” Niall jumps up, kicking a leg out experimentally a few times.

Zayn doesn’t look impressed. “That’s hardly a dance.”

“Oi, that’s the dance of me forefathers, show some respect,” Niall crows.

He keeps at it, doing a jig to the nonexistent music as passionately as he can before he can see Zayn shimmying his shoulders a little, barely participating but participating nonetheless. It’s exhilarating watching Zayn choose to participate, watching his cool exterior soften enough that he’s willing to follow along with any idiot thing Niall’s trying to get him to do. He cuts it off soon after the little shimmy starts, not willing to push his luck.

“Sorry, mate, I don’t actually know the dance.”

“That’s all right, I just needed to stop working on it,” Zayn says. “Need a distraction.”

“Liam’s going to kill me if he comes back in and I’m distracting his Juliet,” Niall says, a little more scandalous than he intends. He scrambles to cover it even as Zayn’s eyebrows lift. “You should be studying your lines.”

“I’m good,” Zayn says. “What’s that, a lute? Thought we were doing a modern adaptation.” He points at the baroque guitar Niall had been messing with before Zayn had knocked. He doesn’t pick it up and mess with it like Liam did, which Niall appreciates.

“Baroque guitar. It’s for class,” Niall explains, because it sounds better than _I don’t know what to do so I’m trying to do everything_.

“You playing a regular guitar for the show, then?”

“Oh, I’m not playing the show, I’m just helping out for a while,” Niall explains, because it sounds better than _I want an excuse to see you every day_.

Zayn makes an inscrutable look, almost like an evaluation, that has Niall wanting to drop his eyes. He doesn’t though.

“All right,” Zayn decides. Even though Niall didn’t need his permission, it feels good to have it.

Niall needles him with questions after that, tries to open him up to everything he’ll give. He’s almost addicted to listening to Zayn answer his questions, give small pieces of himself over to Niall for safekeeping.

He is surprised when Zayn turns it on him.

“You ever fallen in love at first sight before?” Zayn asks.

Niall’s heart lurches a little. While he knows it’s impossible he’s fallen in love with Zayn by now, he’s fallen into something with him. Whether it’s fascination or just a good old fashioned schoolboy crush, he’s not sure. But there’s something there.

“I’m not really the type, I think,” he tells Zayn instead. “You?”

“Have done,” Zayn says, shifting so he’s looking up at the ceiling. “Couple of times.”

“Really,” Niall barks out even though he doesn’t really plan to. Zayn nods, but doesn’t elaborate.

For someone who takes so long to crack, Niall’s surprised Zayn would offer himself up to anyone at first sight. _He opened for me pretty quickly,_ Niall allows himself to think for a single brief moment, before he decides Zayn can’t have fallen for Niall at first sight. He remembers Zayn’s face when Niall told him he’s the kind of person people fall in love at first sight over. It’s just Niall never actually imagined Zayn would be the type to fall back.

\--

They spend the night rehearsing Louis’ big solo, Queen Mab, and blocking out the fight between Mercutio and Tybalt, and while it’s all fun, Zayn’s not there. He can’t exactly leave in the middle of rehearsal, though, once he realizes Zayn’s got a night off -- he said he’d help out a bit here and there and he can’t think of a good excuse to duck out early.

He realizes about halfway through the rehearsal that he doesn’t actually need Zayn there. That between the four of them, he’s still enjoying himself. He loves listening to them discuss the music and giving his input when they ask. He loves being part of making something, even if he knows it’s not meant to last. He’ll bugger off when they’re ready to start performing, go back to the piano they started with, but until then he’ll stay.

Regardless of how much fun he has in rehearsal, he still shoots out of the hall as soon as they call the music done for the night, snatching up his bag and his guitar, and he can barely hear Liam inquiring after him. He doesn’t care, he just guns it straight for his room to drop off his shit.

Zayn lives two floors above him, and Niall takes the stairs to work out some of his nerves. He’s unsure why he’s got nerves. This is just the same as when Zayn dropped by his room a couple of times in the last week, and when Zayn followed him and Liam back to theirs after rehearsal last night.

That’s what he tells himself, nerves aren’t allowed. So he knocks firmly, confidently on Zayn’s door, and the door opens pretty quickly.

“Thank god,” Zayn says, tugging at Niall’s shirt so he stumbles into Zayn’s room faster. “I can’t get the lines for the dance down, it’s been torturing me for hours, mate. I’m a lost cause.”

“You’re not a lost cause,” Niall says instinctually. “D’you want me to run you through them?”

“It’s just, I’ve got the lines, and I’ve got the dance, like. But I can’t put them together, I just lose one of them.”

“Ehhh. I still don’t know the dance?”

“You can just stand there,” Zayn says, thrusting the script into his hands. He wrings his hands and paces away from Niall, getting in character, he assumes. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Niall says, and they launch into the scene.

He does call for line a few times, during the more complicated moves, but once it devolves into something simple like club dancing, he’s got the lines down. Zayn guides him so he tucks himself behind Zayn, like he knows Liam does, joins his free hand with Zayn’s around his middle. It makes reading the script a little easier, but he goes with it, moving slowly against Zayn to the non-existent music, flirting about hands and lips.

 _He kisses Juliet,_ says the stage direction, and Niall hesitates. It’s a stage kiss, so it means nothing, it wouldn’t change anything. He’s not sure he wants to go through with it, make that their first kiss. Steal something he wants from Zayn without asking under the guise of acting.

Then Zayn’s craning his head back, leaning in, flicking his eyes from Niall’s down to his lips and back up. He doesn’t say anything, he just leans in slowly, giving Niall enough time to pull away.

Niall looks at him and thinks, _that’s what I want_. So he goes for it.

Gently, though, filling in the gap to press his lips softly to Zayn’s, letting his eyes fall shut. He’s hesitant to do much else, but he doesn’t move until Zayn leans back to look at him. Niall’s sure he’s got stars in his eyes, but he can’t even be embarrassed by it.

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, quirking his eyebrows up.

“Yeah,” Niall answers quickly, grasping at the back of Zayn’s neck and crashing them back together. They turn heated quickly, licking into each other’s mouths and slowly shifting until they can press up against each other.

Zayn presses his fingers into Niall’s hips, which he thinks he should press against until he realizes Zayn’s trying to guide his feet. Backwards. To his bed. He falls a little ungracefully onto it, but it’s nothing he can’t cover with further enthusiastic snogging, pulling Zayn on top of him.

One of Zayn’s fingers tugs a little at the waistband of his jeans, and he can barely ask Niall, “Can I?” before Niall’s stumbling to undo his flies for him. Zayn grins against his lips and plucks Niall’s frantic hands away to do it himself.

Niall gasps at the dry pull of Zayn’s hand, but he isn’t too concerned about that for long. Zayn shifts to grind his hips down against Niall’s thigh in time with the movement of his hand, slow and steady and torturous, like he’s got a tempo in mind.

“Fuck,” Niall hisses and leans his head further back against the pillow like an invitation. “Been waiting for weeks.”

“Me too,” Zayn says, his lips brushing gently on Niall’s chest as he takes the hint.

“Yeah?” Niall tries for cool and coy, but he figures the shudder that interrupts him half way through gives the game away.

He trails kisses along Niall’s neck all the way up to his ear, nipping gently at it until he whispers, “At first sight.”

He does something with his thumb that has Niall groaning and coming in his pants like the teenager he is. He’s got his eyes scrunched shut and his breath’s coming fast, and he’s trying to will his hands to grab at Zayn’s waistband, but he’s interrupted by the sound of Zayn’s door opening.

“What the _fuck_ ,” his roommate hisses with a slapping sound that Niall assumes means he’s got his hands over his eyes. “We had an _agreement_. You’re supposed to respect the Sex Agreement!”

“Shit, sorry,” Zayn says, pulling his hand out of Niall’s pants quickly. Niall starts a little with sensitivity. “It was sort of... sudden.”

Niall agrees -- it’s all sudden, everything about them seems to move at an expedited pace. He doesn’t know if he should be wary or exhilarated. He doesn’t really seem to have time to stop and think.

The door slams with the sound of his roommate’s grumbles, and Niall has to stop himself from laughing -- or jostling his leg where Zayn is still pressed up against it.

“Mood killer,” Zayn mumbles.

Niall makes a dismissive noise, pokes at his chest three times, and says, “Resuming seduction protocol.” He takes particular delight in the crinkle of Zayn’s eyes and his rare bark of laughter.

\--

“Liam’s mad at me,” Niall says in lieu of hello once Zayn opens the door. He tries not let Zayn answer or ask any sort of questions in favor of a snog, but Zayn won’t have any of it. Niall almost pouts -- Zayn’s going to be gone for twelve hours of dress rehearsal tomorrow, he’s gotta take advantage of kisses while he can.

“What for?” Zayn asks, and he looks for a second like he’s ready to fight. As if anyone would ever fight Liam.

“Asked me to be the accompanist again. Didn’t like it when I said no.” He crowds Zayn near the door and kisses him, pleased that Zayn melts into it quickly and with enthusiasm.

It doesn’t last long, though, because Zayn pulls away to ask, “Why don’t you want to do it?”

Niall shrugs. “It’s just the four of you, isn’t it. You’re good without me. You can replace me with a CD, I’m not sure I’m adding much.”

That lands a little heavier than Niall intends, so he smiles and shrugs. Zayn doesn’t buy it for a second.

“You can’t be replaced by a CD.”

Niall shakes his head, brushing it off, and presses a kiss to Zayn’s lips again. “D’you need to run lines? Run through the dance? I think I’ve got it down this time.”

“Niall, stop.”

He does, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“I think… You’re so busy trying to make things happen for other people, that I’m not sure you’re doing anything for yourself,” Zayn says carefully.

“I do this for myself,” Niall jokes, running his hands down to squeeze at Zayn’s arse.

“Niall,” Zayn censures. “But really, it’s like an anomaly, like. Even then, you play it damn close to your vest. I’m not even sure in all these weeks I’ve ever had a conversation with you about _you_.”

Niall blinks, thrown for a second, before he’s able to deflect. “Honestly, there’s not much going on up here.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Zayn snaps back. “And if you expect me to buy that shit, you better tell me now I shouldn’t bother with you.”

Niall drops his eyes, mostly just to try to ease the tension between the two of them. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Whatever it is that’s holding you back. Is it because you don’t think you’re good enough?”

“I am good enough,” Niall answers. He knows that. He doesn’t see any reason to deny himself that simple truth, that single thing he’s built his whole life around. He’s fucking good at music.

“I know you are,” Zayn says gently, reaching out to stroke at his face. “So do the rest of them.”

“I just. I don’t know what I want to do. I want to do a million things and I want to do nothing. I know I can do anything, and it’s, honestly, it’s just overwhelming to try to figure everything out. Because I’m running around like I’ve got a plan, when I haven’t got a fucking clue.”

He sort of expects Zayn to laugh at him, like he expects anyone else to if he’d told them that. He expects a hearty chuckle and a _oh is that all_? But he doesn’t get that from Zayn. He gets a considering nod, a calculation of what he’s said, seems like.

“What are you, nineteen?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re in luck,” Zayn answers with a serious face. “I checked just earlier today, and as it turns out, you don’t have to have it all figured out by age nineteen.”

Niall quirks an eyebrow at him, playing along even though he’s not sure he wants to. “Oh really?”

“Yep. You can actually do whatever the fuck you want to do. And if you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? You don’t have to.”

“Simple as that, huh.”

“Stunningly simple,” Zayn says with so much conviction Niall can almost believe him.

Almost, though. He thinks he could try to do that, live his life on exactly his own terms, without giving a single thought to what anyone else has to say about it, without needing to worry about pleasing others or upsetting them. But it’s just not a flip he can switch.

He’s never had to worry about it, so long as the things he does are small, innocuous, impossible to bother other people. So long as going after things he wants only affects him. He can try all the instruments in the world, because it doesn’t matter to anyone else what he plays. But the second he puts himself into this play, there’s expectations. There’s people to disappoint.

“That being said,” Zayn continues. “You won’t ever know if you actually like doing something unless you try it. You can leave off doing something that makes you unhappy, but I think if you don’t even give yourself the opportunity to be happy like, to begin with? That’s the bad part. That’s when you’re making the wrong decision.”

Niall nods slowly, processing. He’s right. Denying himself something that could be fun, something that could be a home to him, that makes no sense. That’s kind of what it feels like in that rehearsal hall, just the five of them and their music and their voices and their simple set and their simple lighting and the clothes they got dressed in earlier that morning. It’s like a home. It’s what he feels like he should be doing.

“Is this what you want?”

“Think so,” Niall says, and it feels like a release to say so.

“Then go for it.” Zayn says and kisses him.

\--

Niall shows up to dress rehearsal with his guitar in hand and a small smile on his face. Liam looks like he’s going to cry at the sight of him, gathers him up into a hug and whispers _thank you thank you thank you_ in his ear before Louis has to tug him away.

“We rewrote a song for you,” Harry says with a smile. “The three of us.”

He hands over the sheet music, and Niall scans it. It’s the prologue, the opening number, and it starts with Niall, grows stronger as their voices start to join him, until they’re weaving a five-part harmony through the end of it. There’s an epilogue too, a reprise, only Niall, and he realizes with a start, that means he gets the last line in the show.

It seems so much bigger than Niall ever signed up for, but the other four are looking at him with hope and confidence. He wants to be part of this, he reminds himself. He wants to make them proud. So he does.

Dress rehearsals fly by in the blink of an eye, the five of them barely taking time off to sleep, only agreeing to leave the theatre for their classes and sometimes food. It’s opening night before Niall can even get his head around it.

He finds Zayn pacing outside the stage door, smoking a cigarette like his life depends on it.

“Hey,” Niall says. “Doin’ okay?”

“I’m fucking bricking it, aren’t I,” Zayn mumbles.

Niall pokes at his chest three times. “Confidence levels optimized.”

“Beep beep boop,” Zayn says, somehow managing to sound both sarcastic and fond simultaneously. “I feel so much better now.”

Niall smiles at him, presses a few kisses on him until Zayn relaxes a little.

“Look, I discovered you, so I’ll take full credit for your success,” Niall says. “But if you go out there and completely lose it, I’m afraid I couldn’t be seen with you. So. Maybe just do your best.”

Zayn rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, though,” Niall adds. “Nobody could have done this better. I knew it. At first sight.”

“At first sight,” Zayn repeats with a grin. He pulls Niall back to him, kissing him until he taste of the cigarette is gone and only Zayn is left.

A throat is cleared -- it’s Louis, catching their attention. Niall tries his hardest not to look like he’s been caught, but he’s not the actor here.

Louis’ face is pinched in a scowl. “Well, we’re going to talk about the… this,” -- he makes a vague gesture at the two of them -- “much later. Right now we’ve got a show that’ll determine the course of the rest of my life. So maybe come back inside? Thanks, much obliged.”

After Louis’ disappeared back through the door, Zayn snorts, drops his cigarette, and grinds it with his shoe.

“Gotta go determine the course of Louis’ life, then,” Zayn says.

“Oof, no pressure,” Niall answers, holding the stage door open for him. They join the other three where they’re huddled backstage. The light buzzing of the audience can just barely be heard through the curtain, and it sends a thrill up through Niall’s spine.

“We’re gonna be more than those Brits who took spots from hard-working American applicants,” Louis says.

Niall looks over at him pointedly.

“And Irish, excuse me, Niall.” Louis nods respectfully. “We’re going to crossover, we’ll conquer everything this school has to offer.”

“Not dance, though,” Liam interjects. “Just drama and music.”

“Right, Payno, not dance, we’re all terrible dancers,” Louis agrees.

“Speak for yourself,” Zayn mumbles, but it’s light-hearted enough.

“All right, Zayn is a triple threat, and we’ll murder him after curtain call, agreed?”

They all chuckle, even though there’s a nervous tinge to it, and shift closer together for the ritual Liam leads them through before every run of the show. Then they take their places. Or they’re supposed to, but Zayn’s following Niall stage left until they reach where he’s supposed to wait, the two of them bathed in the soft blue glow of the light that hangs by his entrance.

Niall raises his eyebrows at him, unsure if he should say something so close to the stage. The pre-show music is starting to fade. Zayn presses a few kisses to his lips and squeezes at his arm before he pushes Niall to the curtain.

“Smash it,” Niall says quietly.

“Break a leg,” Zayn answers.

Niall watches the lights dim so he can take his place on his stool downstage right. The light chattering of the audience slowly transitions to silence in anticipation. Niall sneaks out into the darkness and takes his seat, plucking slowly to cue the lights to come back up. He can barely see the audience, mostly just the front rows, feels a thrill lick up his spine at the thought that he’s about to perform for them. He’s about to lay everything he’s got out on the stage for them to see.

He’ll start the prologue on his own before he’s joined by the rest of them, the five of their voices blending together to create something Niall isn’t afraid to say is special.

The spotlight hits him. “ _Two households,_ ” Niall sings, waiting for Zayn and Liam and Louis and Harry to take their place beside him. “ _Both alike in dignity._ ”

\----

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! :D


End file.
